


I Want You

by exquisitelymorose



Category: Holby City
Genre: Bisexual Disasters, But sexual, F/F, Yuletide Gays, angsty, berena - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 13:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17142797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exquisitelymorose/pseuds/exquisitelymorose
Summary: "'I want you to come' was a bold overstatement and perhaps an entire lie. There was no question about that in Bernies mind. Because the only truth that she knew for certain was that nearly a month ago, she had tried. She’d tried to kiss Serena Campbell and the other woman had ducked her head, muttered an unreadable apology and barely looked in her direction since.''Or, the one where Serena throws a Christmas party and Bernie goes, determined to set things right with the woman she considers to be her (all too beautiful) best friend. Set in the early days of Berena.





	I Want You

This is a mistake. 

Bernie breathes out as she surveys herself in the mirror, admitting for what feels like the 25th time that evening that she should probably not be doing this. And the reasons she is are all purely and utterly selfish. 

Things had been… awkward? Uncomfortable. Delicate. And more than rigid for nearing three weeks and this, this would make it no better. Serena didn’t even want her there. The invite had lingered in the air between them, insincere and quiet, until Dom had basically agreed on Bernies behalf, if only to clear the room of the mammoth sized tension between them. It was his fault anyway, the blonde thinks with a huff as she recalls the moment only 6 days earlier. She’d been stood at the nurses station, pouring over a file when he came in from seemingly nowhere, a flurry of a question.

“What’re you wearing to Serenas?”

“Serena?” The name left Bernies mouth, a surprised yelp before she could control it. She’d heard the rumours about the two of them, had even sort of laughed at them for a time until it happened. Now even a mention of the brunette was enough to send an ache to her stomach and sweat to her palms.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

Dom’s eyes had widened just a bit as he seemed to search for his words, wondering if he’d massively shot himself in the foot and Serenas in the process. “Her holiday party? I just-” he’d tried to make an excuse but Bernie merely shook her head, speaking a hushed “it’s fine” over his mumbled attempts.

“I just got the invite a few days ago, I’m sure yours is on the way.” He’d tried lamely but Bernie knew the truth. She wasn’t invited. She’d seen Serena in passing a dozen times in the past day alone.

But suddenly, there she’d been, over Doms shoulder. And it was clear she’d heard every word. Bernie had tried to look down, pretend it never happened, that she wasn’t the slightest bit interested in anything but her file. Until Serena had cleared her throat, causing a nearly comical jump by Dom and a raised eyebrow by Bernie.

“I had meant to speak to you, Bernie.” Her voice came kind of quiet, but mostly sure. A sure lie.  
“Its fine, Serena,” Bernie’d said with a forced smile and a wave of the hand, “one of us needs to be here anyway.”

“No, no. I can have it arranged.”

“That’s really not necessary.”

Dom had tried to slip from between them then, his mouth pursed, eyes darting. But Serena made one final statement, “I want you to come. I’ll have it arranged and send you an e-mail with the details.” Then she was gone leaving Dom to transition from his enthusiastic nodding to mouthing an awkward apology as Bernie tried not to dissolve into her scrubs. 

“I want you to come” was a bold overstatement and perhaps an entire lie. There was no question about that in Bernies mind. Because the only truth that she knew for certain was that nearly a month ago, she had tried. She’d tried to kiss Serena Campbell and the other woman had ducked her head, muttered an unreadable apology and barely looked in her direction since. The woman could barely discuss surgical tactics in a room full of doctors with her, the last thing she would want was for Bernie to show up in her home, for a merry, gay time. Emphasis on the gay.

But here she is, applying lipstick she’s forgotten she owns, pulling the tag from a top she’s just bought and preparing to leave to do just that. Bombard Serena Campbells holiday party. And while some part of her feels badly about it, mostly she feels its deserved. Because if she’s being honest, she’s hurt and she doesn’t think she’s being dramatic for it. It’s not like her friend and co-leader had done nothing to make her believe that she was right in acting on her feelings. There’d been flirtation and touches, things that were tangible. Undeniable. But even if there hadn’t been. Serena and her - they’d been friends, fast on their way to best friends. Not being invited to this holiday party, one that Bernie is sure she would’ve had a hand in (unskillfully) helping to plan only weeks ago, that hurt.

And yes, maybe she’d pulled the rug out from under her friend by way of a confession but Serena had handled it poorly, so poorly. Bernie understands the impulse to run, but at least when she does it, she thinks, its to another country. To have to see each other everyday and never mention it, it’s childish. And she wants answers. She wants Serena to understand that she can be an adult about this, she won’t hold it over her that she’s not capable of the same type of feelings. But they need to talk about it. They need to clear the air to at least move on professionally. The word makes Bernies skin crawl and her throat itch. Professional. It’s not how she feels towards Serena. But, she reasons, it’ll have to work. 

So she checks herself in the mirror once again and gives herself a nod. She knows she’s not chosen her outfit based on professionalism. Or splashed on the bit of lipstick and eyeliner because she doesn’t want Serena to notice. She knows its that part of her, the one that lingers even after a life of camo and canvas tents and scrubs and ponytails, the part that still wants to be feminine and desired. As much as she knows it’s wrong to hope to solicit that reaction from her friend, she can’t help but indulge herself. As they say, “show them what they’re missing.”

She takes a cab over, doesn’t want to chance that she’ll have to leave her car over night or make a hasty exit, tempted to drive after a few whiskey. And a few whiskey _will_ be had. When she arrives there are people making their way through the door and Bernie is filled with dread as she watches light pour out of Serenas door and onto the front step. She knows that not everyone there tonight is from the hospital. It’s a mix of Serenas personal life and her work life, though the distinction can be hard to spot. Bernie swallows as she pays the cab driver and suddenly wishes she would’ve taken Fletch up on his offer to arrive together. 

When she reaches the door she can hear muffled chatter and music on the other side. The blonde begins to raise a hand to knock but forces her fist back down to her side. Not only has she been here before but if Serena is so hell bent on pretending as if nothing’s ever happened, she might as well play the part. As she opens the door, met with the typically gorgeous sights, sounds and smells of a holiday party she suddenly feels her stomach drop. And thinks that three weeks ago she also wouldn’t have thought twice about giving Serena a festive hug and a peck on the cheek. Perhaps she won’t play the part that well.

It’s only a brief moment of pure panic, regret and the intrusive impulse to bolt before she finds herself looking up from where she’s discarded her shoes to be wrapped in a hug. The arms are limp and hesitant around her shoulders and if it weren’t for the hard plastic frames of glasses knocking at her temple, Bernie might not know who it is. 

“Merry Christmas, Jason,” she breathes with a smile, running a shy hand lightly over his back. 

“Merry Christmas, Bernie! Auntie Serena says its nice to hug people at Christmas and it seems to be what everyone else is doing.” Bernie begins to open her mouth to speak but before she can get a word in Jason is asking for her coat. 

Shrugging out of it she suddenly feels embarrassed. Dresses, suits, blouses, jeans - there are outfits of every type on display this evening and she is by no means under or overdressed. But as the chill of the front entrance spills over her exposed collars and her slender shoulder, Bernie feels decidedly unlike herself. A dress had seemed like too much, a button up was too similar to her everyday attire. What she’s opted for instead, a fitted maroon sweater that falls purposefully off the left shoulder and a pair of faux leather pants, had felt more comfortable. But now, about to greet the people she does rounds with everyday, she feels the choice is all wrong. 

“Miss Wolfe! You made it!” She’s met by Dom’s voice as she rounds the corner into the warmly light living area.

She feels her shoulders loosen, her stomach ease as she takes in the familiar faces of her coworkers. They all exchange pleasantries and compliments. Bernie admits that it is nice to see everyone away from the hospital, away from Albie’s. They fall into easy chatter and she has a glass thrust into her palm by one of the boys before she finds herself discussing a particularly trying shift a few days ago with Raf. She means to be engaged, to try to hold the conversation together but she realizes her eyes have swept the entire room before she consciously acknowledges to herself that she’s looking for her absentee host. 

“In the kitchen.”

It’s Fletch's voice who reaches her with a whisper, his hand curled around a glass, eyes forward. The way he says it tells her all she needs to know. Everyones sensed the tension between them. While she feels she should be embarrassed or defensive, she knows its futile. She’d taken a risk, she’d put her working relationship with Serena in jeopardy when she’d decided to lean into her that night. Now it was her turn to deal with the consequences, even it meant the knowing glances and whispers from her teammates. All she can do is nod, a simple thank you.

It isn’t long before her co-lead sweeps into the room. It is her party after all and what kind of host would she be if she didn’t float from circle to circle every few moments. But the thought does nothing to prepare Bernie for what she’s seeing. She swallows thickly. Stood before their small circle is Serena, wrapped in a forest green dress that hugs her curves magnificently, a golden necklace shining between her effortless cleavage and a cheeky swipe of red over her lips. It’s so… perfectly, stupidly attractive that Bernie almost has to laugh. Of course, of course. 

It seems Bernie isn’t the only one in the group that Serena has yet to greet so she takes a nearly invisible step back and watches as the brunette makes her rounds. Hugs and jovial hellos, Christmas greetings and wicked smiles. She is the consummate host and Bernie can’t help but wonder if she’ll get even a quarter of the affection that her teammates have been bestowed. But she pushes the thought down, thinks again of “playing the part” and plasters a smile on her face when Serena finally reaches her. 

“A woman of many talents, Ms. Campbell! It looks wonderful in here.” Bernies words are honest but she’s not sure if her tone comes out right. She’s trying. Really she is, but the woman before her is so beautiful that she thinks her heart may physically be breaking. 

The smirk that crosses Serenas lips seems genuine and theres something that uncoils in Bernies belly as her co-lead gives her a loose, one armed hug, her other hand clutching a grass of shiraz that settles against Bernies breast bone.

“I’m glad you could make it.” It doesn’t sound untrue. 

Serena settles herself next to Bernie and easily falls into conversation with them for a few moments before excusing herself to greet newcomers. The evening goes on like that. The whiskey and her one glass of wine warms Bernies body, she suddenly feels not just comfortable but confident in herself, her outfit, her ability to be a part of this team and enjoy a night with them without the ever present worry of her feelings for Serena creeping up or in and clouding her thoughts. The one advantage of a failed kiss, she thinks with only a dash of bitterness, at least now she can try to move on. She doesn’t see her brunette friend all too often throughout the course of the evening. Everyone is making themselves at home, engaging in conversation with whomever they happen to stand next to.

Only once does she really see Serena. When she’s stood in a hallway, pretending to listen to the trials and adventures of the professor stood before her, too content where she is to admit that he’s probably hitting on her. Then she feels a hand at her lower back and one against her arm, just a fleeting touch and a breathy, “‘scuse me, love” as someone squeezes past her in the tight hall. Its not until she’s a few feet ahead that Bernie realizes it was Serena and her cheeks flare red as the brunette turns her head, their eyes meeting and locking with an intensity that Bernie hadn’t meant to muster until Serena is turning back around and continuing on her mission.

When the professor makes his move, reaching a hand for Bernies, she politely and firmly excuses herself back to the living room. Making her way down the hall and through the kitchen, she notes that the numbers are dwindling and the place is clearing out quickly. She’s just making out the time on her thin, leather watch as she reaches the living room to find the only people still there are her AAU team. The only people to whom time does not really matter. By this point enough people have left that everyone is able to comfortably take a seat without feeling poorly about it so Bernie settles herself on the couch next to Raf and breathes out before taking a sip. 

“May I?”

When she looks up, a beautiful if not slightly knackered Serena is pointing a finger at the empty spot next to her. 

“Of course.”

Serena plops herself down with a sigh, a flush on her cheeks, a content smile on her face and Bernie tries not to think too hard about the brunettes bare thigh against the faux leather of her own.

“Another success?” She asks the room, raising her hands a little but really it’s a statement because they all know it was and everyone raises their glass to the host. 

“I know I’m not really one for housekeeping,” Bernie says just loud enough for the two of them, not daring to fully turn her eyes towards Serena, “but surely you’ll need help with the clean up.”

“Oh,” a small silence passes, “I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

“No trouble at all.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Bernie isn’t really sure why she’s offering. She’d started the evening wanting a conversation, an explanation. Some sort of small olive branch from her friend that would tell her that things were alright. And while they’d seemed okay, it wasn’t enough. There was no personal side conversations, no teasing each other or comparing notes on their evening conversations. It wasn’t them. And while Bernie doesn’t feel that she’s the one who should be putting them back together, she can’t help but try. Her peace offering. The move that would settle them, hopefully, back into the safe ease of female friendship. 

The rest of the group clears out shortly after, pouring themselves into taxis with giggles and voices a little too loud. Fletch and Morven both offer to split a ride with Bernie and she tries not to focus too hard on their odd glances when she declines. She is staying. To help. And that is that. When Serena closes the door behind the last of them, Bernie feels that she takes a second too long to turn back around. 

“You really don’t have to stay.” Her words are timid, formal in a way that their friendship never was. It makes Bernie feel ill.

“I want to, Serena.”

They fall into a silence, shifting from room to room stacking cups and plates with the sounds of the holiday playlist floating through the speaker. Once trash and recyclables are separated, it leaves only the decorations that Serena will deal with tomorrow and the dishes that need washing. Bernie lingers in the door as Serena fills the sink. She isn’t sure what to say, how to offer to help. How to continue on in this undeniable awkwardness.

“Serena.” It comes out as a plea that Bernie had meant to swallow but when her friend turns, she sees it written all over her face. Her mouth in a knowing, set line. Eyes expectant and somehow sad. It’s all a little too much.

“Bernie, I-” she starts but her words trail and they’re both just stood, a fair distance apart, eyes set on each other.

“You weren’t going to invite me.” This isn’t how Bernie wants it to go but it seems that her mouth and her mind are not making the connections she’d hoped for and the words hang between them.

“I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”

A scoff, an angry bitter sound leaves Bernies throat as she crosses her arms and Serena winces. Her blonde hair is shaking as she realizes that Serena isn’t continuing. Somehow, despite her best efforts, the words tumble out. They spill from Bernies lips, sad and slow. 

“We’ve sat on the steps outside of our hospital and helped each other and saw each other through grief and failed marriages and the stress of these lives we lead. Not to mention, the trauma unit?” Serena is barely making eye contact as Bernie continues, stood only a foot away from her now, “That doesn’t just go away, Serena. You can’t just snap a finger and wish a friendship out of your life when we still see each other everyday.” 

“A friendship?” Serena’s eyes narrow, her words confused with an edge of anger. 

“Yes, Serena, that is what we are isn’t it? Friends?”

“I think you’ve made it quite clear that thats not what you want.”

The anger boils in Bernies body, threatening to spill from her throat at Serenas words, “And if you’d been mature enough to talk to me about it, I would’ve told you that I was absolutely fine with friendship. More than fine.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Why did I do it?” Her voice echoes back to Serena in disbelief, “can you really stand there and tell me you don’t think I had reason, at all, to believe you felt the same way?”

“I-” the brunette stutters as Bernies eyes bore into her, “I thought we were just having a bit of fun.”

The words fall at their feet, a lame excuse that makes Bernie want to cry and Serena want to run.

“Well then,” the blonde looks to her feet after the silence becomes too agonizing, “how foolish I am.”

She turns to leave. Can’t stand to see this woman, someone she’s unsure she’ll ever call a friend again, belittle the moments they shared. Dismiss the things she felt as a silly misinterpretation of back and forth school yard antics. She burns with anger, embarrassment, pain. 

The front door is in front of her, beckoning her away from all of this before she even realizes she’s turned and rushed away. Her shoes are the only ones that sit on the dirtied floor mat and Bernie is suddenly filled with an overwhelming regret for her shoe choice, tempted to grab them and run out in her socked feet. She’s bent over, trying to pluck one from the ground, her vision beginning to blur with tears when a hand clutches her wrist and spins her around. It takes her by surprise, the force, the strength and she finds one hand clutching her own, another grabbing lightly at the skin of her neck, fingers working their way into her hair. She’s crowded, hot, bothered. 

Serenas forehead rests against her own and she can see through her watery eyes that her co-leads eyes are closed, her breath ghosting over her lips.

“Please,” comes Serenas whispered words, “please don’t leave.”

Bernie says nothing, only stays completely still as her friend lets another plea leave her lips. Her stomach clenches, her skin tingles. This isn’t making any sense. She wants to run and she wants to grab Serena with such force they tumble over. But suddenly theres lips at her cheeks, her neck, over her nose and her eyelids. Muttered, breathy pleas and apologies filling the silence of the entrance and Bernie finds her hand on Serenas hip with a bruising grip. The other one coming up to rest lightly against Serenas cheek who turns and kisses her palm. Too much, too much. She thinks that now she may understand. It was just too much for Serena. 

“Serena.” She tries lightly, the lips at her neck breaking her voice and her resolve, “Serena,’ she tries again. Louder this time. Stronger. 

“Please, I need this.”Bernies heart cracks open in her chest. _She_ needs this? What about her. 

“Bernie, please. I want you so badly, I just can’t-” her eyes are watery when they look to each other and she lets out a shuttering breath, “I’m scared.”

“I won’t do this, Serena. I won’t be a game thats fun for you every once and awhile.” 

“No,” Serenas head shakes fiercely as she grabs at Bernies hands, “you’re not. God, you’re not. What a stupid-” she shakes her head again, “I just don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to talk about it yet. Please, Bernie.”

The blonde takes in her friend. Her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. She looks broken, confused, aroused. 

“You’re so much more than you know. And I would understand if you ran out the door right now. Just like I did.”

“I don’t want to run.” Bernie whispers.

Serenas hands rest on her neck, her lips coming so, so close to hers that she can practically taste them. 

“Then don’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas babies! Be SURE to leave your kudos and comments. It's like a writers caffeine. Keeps us going.


End file.
